


The Captain's Crow

by JonathanAnubian



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Brain Damage, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, guilty pleasure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/JonathanAnubian
Summary: Caught in an ambush by a band of orcs a young ranger named Raihnon and his entire patrol are taken prisoner. Instead of killing them the orc captain, Shaka the Slave Taker, puts them to work. If one of them disobeys the captain, or tries to run, he will torture one of their brothers in arms instead of killing them. And the orc captain has his eye squarely on Raihnon.





	The Captain's Crow

**Author's Note:**

> This is, essentially, a guilty pleasure fic for me. I'm not sure how in depth I'll go with the details so I'll label this as Explicit for now.  
> Main characters might show up later for a cameo, but this story isn't really about them.
> 
> I cannot stress this enough- If you Do Not like this sort of thing then Do Not read it. Especially if you want to post and complain about it. There are a bunch of warnings, you read it at your own risk despite them.

Opening his eyes to the sight of his commanding officer he let out a low moan. Everything swam before him as someone spoke too quietly for him to make out the words. Reaching up to try and touch his head he was surprised at the heavy chains that kept his arms close together. Frowning he tried to remember just what had happened before he blacked out but everything was hazy. He remembered morning training, a quick wash in a nearby stream, changing out of his training gear and into his day wear, eating a hearty breakfast, then heading out on patrol. It had only been a few weeks since he’d been transferred. The training master had finally approved of him moving to a more permanent station and gaining real world experience. It was about time too, he was certainly old enough now. No, focus. He remembered saddling Barrik and the low chatter of his fellow rangers, then riding with a group of senior rangers so he could better learn the routes. Had he fallen from his horse? There was a flash of people shouting and Barrik rearing- then nothing. “Raihnon! Can you hear me?” Blinking blearily he sat up and nodded, though it was a little painful to do so. Slowly his sight adjusted to the low light and he could see the relieved faces of his fellow rangers. Through his dry throat he let out a dry croak, coughed, then tried to speak once again. “What happened?” The older men glanced at one another, it did not fill him with confidence. “It was an ambush.” His commanding officer said bitterly.

As the commander spoke about the ambush it all came flooding back to him. They had just finished their patrol and were on their way home when Raihnon, like the greenhorn he was, relaxed his guard. A noise attracted the attention of two of the more senior rangers but they reacted a moment too late. Out of nowhere they were surrounded by an orc raiding party. Raihnon reached back fruitlessly for his bow when Barrik was shot in the flank and reared. Unable to hold the reigns he fall back, hitting his head on a rocky outcropping and blacking out entirely.

“So we’re…” The lieutenant nodded, holding up his own chained wrists. “Gathering us up instead of killing us- this doesn’t bode well.” Raihnon swallowed a lump of fear. They all looked pretty rough. Some of his seniors had makeshift bandages made of their own torn clothes while others looked like they had been literally dragged though the dirt. ‘Why didn’t they run me through while I lay unconscious on the ground?’ He wondered to himself while his head throbbed dully in pain. He supposed he was lucky. Some men who were thrown from their horses hit their heads and died instantly. Some became shells of their former selves. Others went completely mad. All he felt was pain. Pain and fear.

It wasn’t long before a goblin came by to heckle them, throwing partially moldy bread at them to eat and kicking one of the rangers before sauntering off. All things considered the bread wasn’t that bad, although one of the men offered to test it first to see if it had been drugged or poisoned. When the commander gave the go-ahead he took a sizable piece and ate it. They waited in grim silence for quite some time but the man exhibited no ill effects. Slowly the others began to eat as well. It was enough to stave off hunger but not enough to give them their strength back. In the disquiet that followed he was certain he could hear some of the other whispering to each other, but he couldn’t make out the words. Pulling his legs to his chest he let his head rest on his knees, dark wavy hair obscuring his young features. There were few reasons for orcs to take prisoners and they were never good ones. Either they were hungry, needed slave labor, would be made sport of, or were going to be used as an example. No matter which way you sliced it the outcome looked bleak.

Feeling a hand on his back he jumped, vibrant green eyes wide in a pale face. Motioning for him to calm down the lieutenant sat down next to him. “We’re all in this together.” Raihnon nodded. At thirty-two he was the youngest of them, though that didn’t make him any less deadly. He was inexperienced with the real world but had been trained as thoroughly as any other ranger. If they could get a weapon in his hands he would fight just as hard as the others. The lieutenant sensed his determination and gave him a small smile. There were no words of comfort, it would only hurt Raihnon’s pride as an adult. But the man did stay with him, which he appreciated.

***

Raihnon wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep but his wake-up call, a loud howling, had him jumping up, getting caught in his chains, and falling shoulder first into the ground. The raucous laughter that followed was loud enough to rouse the entire ranger party as a group of orcs hauled them to their feet and brought them roughly outside. Dropping him to the ground the orc stepped back, leaving him to rub at his sore shoulder. Midal looked ready to help him up when a white caragor jumped right in front of them and snarled. The man backed up, startled, leaving Raihnon to his own devices. An orc, much larger than the others, walked out from behind the beast with a smirk on his face. Seeing Raihnon on the ground, afraid to move, he crouched down and fisted his hair, pulling him up to stare directly into his eyes. “Look what we have here, boys. This one’s a runt.” More laughter.

From the other end of the line Commander Haren took a step forward. “He is of no consequence. I am the Commander of these men. What is your purpose with us?” Raihnon stared into the orc’s amber eyes as he held his breath. The orc gave him a curious look before letting him go. With the drooling caragor not far from his face he stay put, trying not to move lest the beast think of him as prey. The rancid breath of the beast was enough to make his stomach rebel but he dared not move a muscle and only continued his staring contest with the large feline.

“I am Shaka the Slave Taker, Captain of this war-band.” The large orc said with a seriousness and intelligence Raihnon didn’t know they could possess. He’d heard tales that orcs were devious and clever, but most of the tales ended with the orc making a critical error and falling to the hands of men. Sometimes they would be spoken of in hushed sad tones when they took the lives of fellow rangers. But this was Raihnon’s first time away from home. Looking at these creatures up close he felt he might finally be able to understand just how dangerous they truly were. “Why have you taken us prisoner?” The voice of his commanding officer brought him back to earth and he held his breath. There was a high chance that Haren would be cut down, for daring to speak out of turn. The orc leader glared down at the man. “Slaves make the work go faster. Slaves like your lot are all the better.” He grinned evilly. “Do try to be more useful than the other sacks of meat.” With a dark chuckle he turned his back on them.

Raihnon had kept up the staring contest a lot longer than he thought he could. Probably due to the adrenaline laced fear running through him. But now his eyes were beginning to hurt something fierce. The large cat finally moved closer, sniffing at his hair. With eye contact broken by the large predator he was able to close his eyes. The creature licked at his blood encrusted hair as Raihnon’s heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. “Get off, ya daft beast!” The orc leader yelled, grabbing the great cat by the scruff and hauling him away. Raihnon looked up in shock to find the orc staring down at him with what could only be described as an amused smirk. Sending the monstrous predator off with one of his soldiers he turned back to them.

“So long as you work and do what you’re told we won’t be skinning you alive. If even one of you puts a toes out of line, however, well I’ll just have to punish someone.” The orc stared them each in the face before he gave them a feral grin. “I won’t be punishing the offender, that’s much to simple. Instead I will torture, then kill, one of your comrades. Starting with the weakest first, of course.” Again his eyes landed on Raihnon, making the young man’s skin go ashen gray. The orc turned away abruptly, ending the one way conversation and yelling at his soldiers to get to their posts. The orcs from before gathered them up and hauled them back to the small hut they were being kept in. The Dunedain were miserable. The punishment the orc leader had come up with was cruel and ingenious. Every man would gladly give his life to save his brothers. But if he was caught it would be his brother’s life on the line. Raihnon grimaced. He felt a grudging respect for the orc leader’s cunning but hated him for their current predicament.

They had a few more hours to rest before they were roused again an hour before dawn. They were given a small meal then marched, as one, to a work site. By the time they arrived the sun had risen above the mountains and they were set to work next to the regular human slaves. The work was back breaking. Breaking rocks, hauling debris, and shoveling out a path for a new road. Within a couple of hours Raihnon’s tunic was soaked with sweat, his hair clinging to his face and the back of his neck. The goblin and orc overseers were dangerous and cruel, often talking loudly about how they would butcher and eat any lazy slaves. Each time he had to pass by one of the orcs he could feel his heart in his throat. With no weapons he wasn’t strong enough to take one of them on himself. Even so, attacking one of them would bring the entire horde down on his head. One wrong move and one of his brothers would be tortured and killed. Looking to the more experienced rangers for guidance he kept his head down and worked hard. Every once in a while he would catch a hand signal as the men silently conversed when their overseers attention was elsewhere. Some of the hand signs were new, shorthand between close comrades. Hauling more broken rocks to the pile, which would be used to line the road later, he thought he caught the words ‘retreat’ and ‘night’ but he couldn’t be certain.

Stopping for a moment after lifting a particularly heavy rock and carrying it all the way back to the pile he wiped his slick forehead with the back of his sleeve, drying to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Running a hand through his hair to slick it back he wondered if he should fashion a headband out of a part of his tunic. Hearing a commotion he spied the orc leader riding the white caragor. The large orc rounded on one of his soldiers, yelling so loudly Raihnon could almost make out the words from there. Suddenly there was a burst of pain from his stomach and he fell to the ground holding his middle. For a moment he thought he would vomit but thankfully he was able to swallow the feeling down. “Get up you lazy _Tark_!” Apparently he had been standing there too long and one of the goblin overseers had finally noticed. Breathing through his nose he felt an all encompassing rage fill him, taking over his body and mind.

Glaring up at the goblin with steely green eyes he imagined bringing the pickaxe down into its head. The goblin took a step back, looking confused and fearful, as Raihnon’s hands clenched and he slowly got to his feet. The anger left him just as suddenly as it had arrived and his hands relaxed suddenly. His head and stomach both throbbed in pain as he turned and picked up the pickaxe, intending to go back to work. Gathering his wits the goblin grabbed him by the shoulder and hissed. “I don’t like the look you just gave me, _Tark_.” Rushing over to protect him Bador, the lieutenant, tried to put himself between Raihnon and the goblin. “Let him go.” The man said firmly. “Oh! Looks like you want to-” Before the goblin could finish his sentence the orc captain, who had somehow snuck up behind him, backhanded him with a force that probably shattered his bones. The rangers gaped as he flew nearly ten feet, bouncing off the ground and skidding to a stop. “No weak willed lumps will be in **my** army!” He growled, loud enough that the other warriors could hear him. Raihnon could feel that growl all the way to his toes, it was jarring. “Next one of you cowers away from a _Tark_ will be thrown to the caragors.”

When he was finished the orc captain looked over at them, catching Raihnon’s eye. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought the orc captain had just saved him. But that was preposterous. Under that gaze he felt like he was completely exposed and alone. But it only lasted a moment. “Get back to work!” He yelled over his shoulder at everyone who had frozen in place to watch him thrash the goblin. Immediately everyone began frantically doing their jobs, all except the men who quietly went back to work as normal. The orc captain whistled for his beast and hauled himself up before wandering off to inspect something or another. Raihnon’s eyes followed him before Bador shook him slightly. “That was a foolish thing to do, Raihnon.” Trembling slightly he turned to look at the man before his eyes fell to the ground. “I-I don’t know what came over me, Sir. It was like an uncontrollable rage inside me just broke free.” Swallowing thickly he reached up and pressed a hand to his head, it still hurt. He wanted to share his worries with the man but it looked as if his attention was elsewhere. “Don’t do something like that again. Just keep your head down.” Bador said as he started walking toward another member of the patrol to help him remove a particularly difficult stump.

At the mid-point of the day, when the sun was at its peak, they were halted for another meal. Bowls of strange gruel and skins of water were handed out. Raihnon drank his down greedily at first, before deciding he should save the rest. Who knew how long they would need to work for? He suspected that they would be marched back to the camp before night fell, so none of them could use the darkness to escape. Sitting on the ground he sniffed at the strange substance but it didn’t smell rancid. Taking a small bite he grimaced in disgust. His stomach and head both hurt but he barely noticed them. Briefly he wondered if his brothers in arms had noticed his… peculiarities. Biting his lip he glanced over at them and wondered if he should mention it but quickly discarded the idea. It wasn’t as if it could help anyone but himself anyway.

Finished eating they were forced back to work. By the time the sun had moved to the other end of the sky, elongating the shadows, his entire body was trembling from the strain. Training had been strict and intense but it was nothing like this. This was torture. His head pounded and anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know if he wanted to throw his shovel at the nearest goblin to start a fight or throw up everything he’d eaten and collapse to the ground in a heap. Leaning on his shovel as a wave of nausea hit him he swore he was about to pass out. Fumbling with the water skin for a moment he finally pulled the cork and finished it off. If he could only hold out until the next day he would be fine. He was sure of it. Just as he was sure the bruising on his stomach and wound on his head would go away. All he needed to do was fall asleep.

When the sun was hidden halfway behind the mountains they were told to pack up and shackled together to be brought back to camp. His body was exhausted and he could barely put one foot in front of the other. Two of the other rangers looped their chained wrists through his arms and practically carried him back to camp. The moment they were left in their pen every one of them collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. It looked like they would be staying in a pen separate from the other slaves. It was probably to stop them from fermenting a rebellion. After all they were Rangers of Gondor. If they led the others would follow.

Resting his head on his arm he let out a low sigh of exhaustion and closed his eyes. He had barely nodded off for an hour when he was awakened by harsh voices. Blinking sleep weary eyes he looked over at the others with concern. “We should escape now, while we’re still strong!” Keval hissed. The man wasn’t known for his subtlety or patience. “We will wait. Once the orcs have lowered their guard, think that they’ve broken us, then we will attempt an escape.” The man huffed but said no more. Eyes half lidded he fell asleep to the sound of the others discussing other plans. Soon he was back in the land of dreams, in the midst of a most beautiful garden.

The next day they were woken abruptly again and the cycle continued. It went on this way for a while. Day in and day out they would be forced to work on the road. Digging up stumps and moving rocks, breaking up the ground with shovels and mattocks. The orcs and goblins would come by to heckle them, beating them if they didn’t work to some impossible standard that had been set for them by their commanding officers. Each day the men were worn down more and more with gaunt faces and tired eyes. The only one who seemed unaffected was Raihnon, but the orcs seemed to assume it was because he was being coddled by the other prisoners, being the youngest. That wasn’t the case. Either because of the blood running through his veins or some divine gift given to him by the Valar, he couldn’t quite be sure. He was less tired than the others by days end and was more rested when he woke in the morning. The scant rations they were given sustained him more than they should and he feared that it would be noticed sooner or later. Watching his brothers wither and die slowly as the days progressed made his heart ache. If they weren’t so worried about getting their brothers killed he was certain some of them would have risked an escape. But they were all loyal rangers and hardy men of Gondor. They would not leave one of their own behind to a horrible fate. It was with this in mind that had Raihnon secretly giving his companions more food by lessening his own. At each meal he would offer to fetch food for the most tired of their group. Then, when no one was looking, he would pour some of his gruel into their bowl. Not enough that they would notice and comment on it, but enough to at least feel like he was helping in some way to keep his brothers a few more steps away from deaths door.

Each day the Captain would appear and watch them work for a time, speaking with his underlings and barking orders before heading back to camp on his caragor. Every time the orc appeared he could feel eyes on his back and wondered just when he was going to have his head on the chopping block. Just thinking about it made him feel green around the gills. So he kept his head down and worked hard until the Captain was out of sight.

***

Waking with a start as a horn was blared close by he groaned and rose from the ground, his chains heavy and difficult to maneuver. The other men rose a little more slowly, their faces and eyes looking tired. “Get up! Quickly now, haven’t got all day!” A goblin screeched at them from the door to their pen. “Don’t keep the captain waiting, he has business with you.” His voice was filled with an excitement that had Raihnon’s stomach feeling like it had been dropped down a well. Standing outside with the others in the dark of the night he looked around at the torch wielding orcs and bit his lips nervously.

When Shaka appeared it was without his nasty cat, though he was no less threatening with the large sword at his hip. Stopping a few feet in front of them he looked them all over, amber eyes just as piercing as before. Raihnon shivered as the orcs eyes seemed to linger on him just a little too long, as if he could see through him. The young ranger tried his best to stand tall next to his brothers in arms but the calculating look had his eyes desperately finding the ground just to get away from that gaze. “You may notice that your little group is one short,” he growled. Looking up in surprise he caught his comrades doing the same as they searched for the missing member. A moment later it dawned on him. They were missing Talor, their member who was the best at stealth and running. “It seems that some of you didn’t take my words to heart yet.” Dread passed through him as an orc came into sight, dragging the missing ranger behind him. The man was tossed in front of Shaka, like a ragdoll, and the captain glared down at him with cold eyes. Talor was able to rise to his feet but was unsteady, he must have put up a fight before being captured. “You have one chance. Name a co-conspirator and their death will be painless. Stay silent and…” He opened his arms theatrically as if to say- ‘you already know what will happen.’

Talor refused to speak. He looked every member in the face but none of them blamed him for trying to run. They were Rangers of Gondor; they would not be broken. Shaka kicked the man in the back, forcing him to his knees. “So you refuse to talk. Perhaps I should cut out your tongue?” Raihnon felt helpless while he watched the hunched form of his brother in arms as he refused to sell out one of their own. The orcs began to laugh, jeering the humans and egging on their captain. A burst of hot anger filled his chest and he glared death at the captain, green eyes steely and bright in the firelight. “Now there’s a lad with fire in his belly.” The orc captain chuckled. Midal tried to step in front of him to protect him from view but it looked as though the captain had made up his mind. Each step the captain made toward him saw the faces of his fellow rangers turning more desperate and bleak. “T-take me instead! I am responsible for these men. If you are going to torture someone, then it should be me!” As the commander spoke the anger inside him fizzled and died, leaving him shaking and sick to his stomach.

“Torture? Who said anything about torture? No, this is an honor- isn’t it _Vogal-Sorr_.” The orcs chuckled darkly as Shaka’s eyes bore into his own. Raihnon paled considerably. The threat of torture, death, or something worse left him feeling weak in the knees. Swallowing down his fear he spoke in a voice just loud enough for the men close to him to hear. “I-it's okay Commander. T-try to stay alive, sir. You’re needed more than I am.” His eyes never left the orc’s as he spoke, his voice high and filled with fear. A look passed over Shaka’s face and Raihnon thought he saw a flicker of approval. He quickly discarded the thought. He was no orc expert, it could have very well been disgust after all.

Grabbing hold of his arm he dragged the young ranger out of the line and dismissed the others back to their rest. They still had to work in the morning, after all.

Being hauled around the camp like a misbehaving child was a nightmare come to life. Orcs, goblins, and even a couple of ologs sat around fires and talked in loud voices, making horrible jokes and staring at him as they passed. He wasn’t sure where they were going but he assumed it was someplace unpleasant. He winced again as they rounded a tower and his arm was wrenched. He would definitely have a bruise, if not a dislocated arm. Swallowing any sounds of surprise or pain he wracked his mind for any way to survive whatever was about to happen. If the orc liked inflicting pain should he scream and get it over with? Or should he try to remain stoic in the face of it. It was hard to tell with orcs, like men, what would appease them. But Raihnon was no fool. He knew that whatever came next was going to hurt more than anything else he’d endured in his entire life. Sending a prayer to the Valar that he could endure and survive he closed his eyes until they came to a jarring stop. “Who’s that Boss?”

Opening his eyes he stared at a slightly smaller orc who had addressed the captain. This new orc’s hair was in a single long braid down their back and their armor looked a little less shabby than some of the others he’d seen. “Muga, aren’t you supposed to be minding the recruits?” A reedy laugh came from the other orc as they leaned against a wooden post. “Knocked a few out in the training field and the rest are drinking grog with the boys. Most of them are decent, but they still need a few things beaten into them.” Raihnon couldn’t place why this orc unsettled him so, other than the fact that all of the orcs unsettled him, so he just tried to remain as quiet and still as he could, hoping not to gain any more attention. “But you didn’t answer my question about the pink-skin.” They said with a sly smirk. Shaka huffed. “One of the rangers, I’m teaching them what happens when they cross me.” The orc’s eyes narrowed for a moment before they grinned viciously. “Oh, I’m sure that’s all it is. Well, have fun Boss. I’ll take the recruits out for a scouting mission tomorrow.” Shaka grunted in acknowledgment and their pace picked up again, taking Raihnon even further into the camp.

Eventually they passed by what appeared to be guards who stood straighter when Shaka walked by. They glanced toward him but didn’t say a word about the human their leader had with him. They came up to a large structure, somewhere between a tent and a more permanent base. It was made of sturdy wood poles with thick leather drapes and stood tall enough for Shaka to walk through the doorway without having to duck his head. The inside had leather skins layered across the ground to keep out the mud and cold. There was a table in one corner, a barrel of what might have been water, at least he hoped, and a thick fabric separating the whole tent into two spaces. Pulling back the fabric the orc captain swung him forward and let go of his arm. Raihnon, losing balance, fell to the ground. Surprisingly it hadn’t hurt as much as he’d thought. There were multiple furs laying on the ground. The smaller room had a chair, a few extra armor pieces, and a stand for weaponry. Blinking dumbly for a moment, his brain unable to process everything at once, he realized with horror that he’d been taken to the captain’s personal living quarters. Scrambling to sit up he turned to the orc, who had come through the doorway and was staring down at him with a predatory grin. “Nowhere to run, _Vogal-Sorr_.”

Raihnon’s mouth went completely dry. Opening his mouth he tried to say something, to ask why, but his voice wouldn’t come out. Striding into the smaller room the captain tugged at the laces holding his bracers into place, loosening them so he could slide them over his large hands. His amber eyes never left the human as he continued to fiddle with his armor, losing pieces here or there. Like a scared rabbit all Raihnon could do was stare up at the predatory being, his body shaking in confusion and fear. He’d heard tales of orcs taking slaves and brutalizing them, there was even a short section of training where they were taught how to end their own lives if they were captured so they could at least die with dignity, but he’d never heard of anything like this. From the look in the captain’s eye, and the actions he’d taken so far, his intentions were unmistakable. But orcs didn’t breed like humans, did they?

Locked in his thoughts he didn’t notice when the captain moved closer and reached for him. Lifted clear off the ground he yelped in surprise before he tried to squirm out of the orc’s hold. He barely came up to Shaka’s chest and even as a young man he was considered on the tall side compared to regular men, his Dunedain blood being a major factor. “Strip or you’ll find yourself without usable clothes when I send you back to work.” His voice was a low growl that made Raihnon stop struggling and stare, terrified, into shining amber eyes filled with lust. Nodding he was released and the orc captain sat in the nearby chair, watching his every move carefully. He only glanced toward the entryway once, and received a sharp snarl in warning. Trembling hands fumbled with his belt as he struggled to take it off. He kept shooting worried glances at the orc captain but Shaka seemed more than content to watch him. It was embarrassing, humiliating, and drew out the tension until Raihnon felt like he might snap. Pulling his tunic over his head he tucked his chin down and stared at the floor. His body was nothing to be proud of. He was still a young man, old enough to be considered an adult by anyone’s standards, expect perhaps the Elves, but youthful enough that he was inexperienced. He was toned from years of training but didn’t have the heavy muscle mass his older brethren had gained after real world experience. The bruise on his stomach was long gone by now so his skin was back to being practically flawless, save for the new bruise blooming on his arm that looked much like a hand print.

The captain’s eyes narrowed as Raihnon hesitated at his trousers. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath and slipped out of them, putting them on the floor with the rest of his clothes. Left in only his braies he dared to look over at the orc, who looked far too amused. “You’ve forgotten one.” He said, tone low and rough. Raihnon wanted to die on the spot. Finally climbing out of his undergarment he stood before the captain, completely nude. “Good. Now come here.” Heart in his throat he took tentative steps toward the captain until he was within arms reach. Lightning fast the orc grabbed him by the hair and yanked him forward, making him cry out from the unsuspected pain. “Next time I give you an order I expect you to obey it immediately, without question.” The grip hardened for a moment then lessened so he was able to reply. “Y-yes.” The orc looked furious. _“Goth.”_ Raihnon shrank back, confused and uncertain. “You will address your master as _Goth._ ” The hand shifted from his hair to his neck and he felt the grip tighten. “Y-yes _Goth!_ ”

Appeased for the moment the grip on the back of his neck loosened and he was able to take a full breath of air. Now that the ranger had been put in his proper place it seemed like the captain had other things on his mind. Reaching down he hooked his finger on the lacing of his trousers, freeing himself. Raihnon’s breath hitched and he tried to look anywhere other than the large appendage now in Shaka’s hand. A low growl reached his ears. “I shouldn’t have to explain what you’re supposed to do here, _Vogal-Sorr_.” The young ranger still did not understand the orc’s words, not having learned much of the Black Speech. But it seemed to be a nickname he would not be getting rid of any time soon. The captain stroked his length lazily, grinning at him wickedly. Raihnon felt bile rise in his throat but the captain didn’t seem to care about his well being as he fisted the ranger’s hair and shoved him closer with a warning growl. The earlier threat still fresh in his mind he looked at the length, swallowed hard to clamp down on his pride, and tentatively took the member into his mouth.

The thing tasted foul and he gagged immediately. Orcs were not known for their hygiene and he felt his stomach shudder with revulsion. The hand in his hair gripped hard and pressed him down further, making him choke. Quickly they fell into a torturous rhythm, Raihnon trying desperately to breathe and the orc holding him in place as he bucked upward, grinding into the back of his throat. Time seemed to stop and he was certain he would black out if it continued much longer. With a final thrust and a low grunt Shaka curled over him slightly, breathing heavy as he violently came. The orc released his hair and he fell to the ground, coughing and spitting out the viscous semen. It coated the inside of his throat and nose, making him gag and dry heave in a desperate need to get away from it.

Leaning back the orc watched him, seeming fascinated for a moment, before he stood from his chair, flaccid member still free. Raihnon didn’t have a chance to even attempt an escape. One moment he was coughing, bent over the ground, and the next he had been dragged beneath the body of the orc. Both of his wrists were caught and pinned above his head. Struggling, unable to see through the tears in his eyes, he felt something grip his backside hard and let out a hiss of pain. Everywhere the captain’s hands had grabbed was a bruise, which only seemed to spur him onward. Something pressed into the ranger’s soft flesh and he arched his back trying to pull away. Shaka laughed, leaning down on the captured man and licked at his tears. Pressing into the man further the captain groaned. Raihnon gasped in pain and thrashed about. It was as if his insides were being torn apart. After what seemed an eternity of agony the orc stopped, but it was only for a moment. Pulling himself out of the man he thrust back inside and reveled in the strangled cry.

Raihnon was in a world of pain. To make things worse every once in a while the captain would thrust into him and he would feel a bolt of ecstasy before the pain overtook him again. If it had only been pain he may have become numb to it after a time. As it was he would let out a gasping moan every so often, which only increased the captain’s pace. He had long since released the ranger’s hands and gripped onto his waist instead. Raihnon beat at the beastly humanoid feebly until there was no strength left in him. When Shaka had finally spilled his seed he pulled away from Raihnon, leaving the man curled up on the furs.

For a time he wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness. However the need for sleep took over and he fell into the comfortable darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation time!
> 
> Vogal-Sorr: Little Crow  
> Goth: Can mean Lord or Master, in this case it means master.


End file.
